One

"VII. And the Prophet Hikmat said, Woe unto those who
think the Sun was made to burn and not to shine.

VIII. And the Prophet Hikmat said, Did not the Lord give us
Sunscreen?"

– The Second Book of the Lord, Annotated with Educational
Footnotes for Your Enjoyment by Mas'ud the Thoughtful and Perhaps
Too Thorough, C.D.

It was not raining. This was not
unusual but it was unfortunate, because drought had been king for
some time now and its subjects were getting restless and considering
a rebellion. And of course the number one thing anyone who has ever
taken a history class knows about peasants' revolts is that they
invariably end in a lot of dead peasants.

Amirah the Righteous and Occasionally
Judgmental, C.D., gave her snake Tariq a light tickle on the head
before hailing a taxi. Tariq was getting restless; something about
the air, maybe. So dry it sucked all the patience out of you.

"Where to, Rev?" said the cab
driver as she clambered in and fumbled Tariq into the snakerest. He
slid in under protest.

"Go straight for 1.2 kilometers,"
intoned the navigation app with stiff cheer. Huda had always reminded
Amirah of her aunt, whose mouth froze into a skeletal grin at family
gatherings and stayed that way no matter what horrors befell her
until the event was over. Her aunt's brand of forced cheerfulness
could survive a nuclear bomb, and the radiation afterwards.

Tariq was still grumbling — how'd
you like it if I put you in a humanrest huh — and Amirah
stroked his head lightly to get him to quiet down. The driver
couldn't hear him. Only preachers seemed to be able to. Tariq said it
wasn't that other people couldn't hear, it was that they didn't
listen.

"So," said the driver after a
few minutes of silence that was not really uncomfortable but had not
quite managed to achieve pleasant either, "do you need a lawyer
or do the lawyers need you?"

"Ah," said the cab driver,
nodding knowingly. It was the sort of knowing nod people gave when
they didn't know anything at all.

"Proceed down the Street of Kings
for 2.3 kilometers," said Huda helpfully.

They descended into silence again, but
the silence was more comfortable this time now that both of them had
relieved their feelings of obligation to talk to one another. Tariq
yawned. Amirah glanced at him suspiciously in case he tried to wiggle
out of the snakerest again. He had problems with authority. Amirah
suspected he had had a rough egghood.

On an impulse the cab driver turned on
the radio. This turned out to be a mistake, because the radio was on
Station 206.7 – the Greatest Hits of Your Parents' Childhoods.
Right now Shihab and the Lightning Bolts were plucking out "What
About Your Goats?", a jaunty yet nostalgic little tune about
moving to the city and leaving your goats behind.

And the bright lights, oh the bright lights

They just make your day

But what about your goats, but what about your goats

You'll never see them again

Yeah, you'll never hear them bleat

And you'll never drink their milk

But you're in the city, the big ol' city

And there ain't no turning back now

"Ugh, not this song,"
muttered the cab driver, and turned the radio back off. Amirah had to
agree, although the lyrics were probably quite metaphorical if you
thought about it.

Soon they came to the entrance of
Ghufran & Ghadir, and Huda's bright monotone informed them they
had Arrived at their Destination.

"How much, sinner?" said
Amirah, lifting Tariq out of the snakerest. He wrapped himself around
her arm like a child clutching a teddy bear in a storm.

"Ten thirty eight," said the
driver. Amirah punched the number 11 into her currency card and slid
it through the payslot in the door.

"Most generous, Rev," said
the driver.

Amirah's expression did not change. "As
the Lord commands, sinner. Good day to you."

She climbed out, blinking in the
sunlight. Tariq looked around with mild interest, then apparently
decided nothing nearby was worth said interest and promptly went to
sleep.

The main doors of Ghufran & Ghadir,
Attorneys at Law, slid open with what should have been a whoosh,
but the sluggishness of the day had gotten to them too and instead it
was just a soft, tired shhh. Amirah stepped in, suppressing a
shiver at the too-conditioned air. The lobby gleamed white like a
manufactured snowstorm, the glint of the walls brighter than the
dusty light outside.

She took the stairs up to the third
floor. The path of the righteous had never been walked on an
escalator, and anyway she didn't trust anything that could suck you
right into the floor.

Her feet hit the top stair. Tariq
adjusted his position lazily. Amirah blinked.

And the world shifted.

It was not a flash of blinding light,
nor a roar of sound, nor a gust of wind. It was simply a change, from
one millisecond to the next, and a feeling of vague disorientation.

Amirah looked around. So did Tariq,
with renewed interest. This wasn't the third floor of Ghufran &
Ghadir anymore, unless the building had undergone serious renovations
very quickly. The building looked – not old, not exactly, it still
looked new, but it didn't look quite modern. Like a museum
come to life. But it was still the same basic shape as Ghufran &
Ghadir. Just – not filled in the same way.

She took an experimental step down onto
the first stair. Nothing happened.

She went the rest of the way down.
Still nothing. But she noticed that there was no escalator anymore.

Tariq's eyes were wide open now. That
was another difference. In the Ghufran & Ghadir lobby he would've
had to shutter them. This building wasn't nearly as bright. There
were paintings on the walls, too, mostly of trees. They were green,
which was suspicious. There hadn't been any green around the city for
some time now.

Amirah pushed open one of the doors.
They were heavy and wooden, not the sleek glass automatic guillotines
that Ghufran & Ghadir normally employed. The light outside was
brighter, too, and if her eyes were honest then the sky was actually
blue. Well, blue-ish, but it was still impressive.

There were people around. That was
good, or so she hoped. They looked different, though, like the rest
of the world. Still the same shape, still definitely people, but in
a different sort of clothing, and walking in a slightly different way.

Across the street was a bar. That was –
new. If new were the right word. She went in, if only because she had
nothing much better to do.

The bartender nodded at her in
greeting. "What can I get for you?"

"Nothing, sinner," said
Amirah. "Just information."

The bartender blinked. "Sinner?
Did you just call me a sinner?"

Amirah stared. What in the Lord's name was wrong? Couldn't she show an honest worker a little respect? But she
glanced down at Tariq, and he shook his head meaningfully. Now was
not the time to be indignant, no matter how justified it was.

"My apologies," she said. "I
am occasionally judgmental." Well, according to the Deacon,
anyway, she thought. According to me too, grumbled Tariq, who could not actually read her thoughts but was rather good at predicting them.

The bartender gave her a wary once-over
and peered closely at Tariq. "Is that a snake?"

What do you think, buddy?
said Tariq.

Amirah took a deep breath. This was not
going well. Why was she being scrutinized like this? All preachers
carried snakes. It was normal.

"Yes," she said, stopping the
word 'sinner' as it tried to escape her mouth. "His name is
Tariq."

The bartender stared at her. "No
snakes in the bar."

Amirah paused. "What?"

What? Tariq said.

"No snakes in the bar."

That's anti-snake rhetoric! Hit this bigot!

"No." That was directed at
both of them. Amirah held the bartender's gaze. Out of the corner of
her eye she saw others in the bar glancing over at her, but she did
not turn. The Deacon had taught her that part of being a preacher was
knowing when to turn and when to face straight ahead. The trick, he
had said, was that you should always face straight ahead. Make them
turn towards you, he'd said. And then you can turn. You can
turn the world.

Doesn't the world already turn on its
own? Amirah had asked.

Okay, yes, this is a metaphor, he had
said.

"No," she said again. "This
is my snake. I will carry him if I wish. And you will tell me
what is going on here, please."

The bartender stared at her. "You
don't know?" She didn't answer. Preacher's prerogative,
the Deacon had always said. You can extract more confessions with
silence than with an angry sermon.

The bartender gave up. "It's Hala City."

So this was Hala City. Just –
different. A tiny little flame of suspicion that had sparked on the
flint of evidence some time ago was now growing in her mind into a
worrying fire. "What year is it?" she asked.

The bartender blinked. "What year
– it's 135 years since the Ascension of the Ox. What year do
you think it is?"

1553, she thought. 1553 years since the
death of the Prophet Hikmat. But no one could've used that calendar
before the Prophet Hikmat died...

What's an ox? whined
Tariq.

"The Ascension of the Ox,"
said Amirah. The bartender nodded. "Which is a cow-like mammal.
Yes. And it is called an ox." She glared pointedly at Tariq,
then gave the bartender a vague smile. "Excuse me. The Ascension
of the Ox – would this be the Golden
Ox, symbol of the agricultural god Harith?"

"Yes," said the
bartender slowly.

The what? Who's Harith? I've never heard of any Harith.

"Ah," said Amirah,
hearing her voice falter a little. "Good."

Who's Harith? demanded
Tariq.

"Thank you," she told
the bartender. Then she turned away. "Harith is a pagan god,"
she hissed to Tariq. "The Ascension of his Golden Ox was a
political regime shift disguised as a holy apotheosis that happened
135 years before the death of the Prophet Hikmat."

SandraHan1:
This story is very descriptive, with vivid scenes from the very beginning, which made for a good scene setting. I love the symbolism in names, such as “Naysayers”, “Hadd”, etc . The story itself is revolutionary, intriguing, emotional and exciting. I was very pleased to see that there is a happy ...

Carole Troup:
A good read for a paranormal lover. There are multiple different types of beings here a dragon ,warlock , witch, vampire Slayer, gargoyle, vampires a few more I am not listing. this is a nice read not overly violent. However there is fighting and bloodshed. A Love story, wrapped in a vampire war,...

Sara Huppman:
My only pet peeve was that there were spelling errors. In one of the last chapters there was a mistake it said Melanie handed the hanky back to Chrystal. It was supposed to be Jess. Great book great plot. Didn't need some of the references to modern day culture like the line about frozen. If ther...

Firewaterdirectioner:
Love is a tale as old as time and you got it rightThis book is a beautiful story of love.The author has managed to make the story intimate without detailed sex scenes. The story is touching and made me cry more than once.It is a must read for historical fantasy fiction

spatiaangelus :
Loved reading this novel. the intricacy of the storyline, the amount of detail and the development of the plot was amazing.Not only is it a unique read, I found it utterly enjoyable and cannot wait to read more

Writer_04:
Best story ever! Adventure throughout the entire book. Couldn’t put it down! It’s interesting and inspiring. I couldn’t help but feel what the characters felt. A great love story, with strong emotions, like, love, loyalty, respect, admiration. A couple of unexpected twists, here and there.

James Lawson:
I enjoyed this so much I immediately bought (and read) the sequel from Amazon.ca - and am eagerly awaiting the third installment.Since this is a review and not a synopsis, I'll share my impressions rather than write out a condensed version of the plot.There were enough plot twists and turns to ke...

Jordano Quaglia:
I was taken to the future, to the shock of worlds among the people in the underground versus the mutants. The characters are well defined and rich in details, as I felt that I empathized well with them and envied their adventures while being scared by their predicament. It i a world that I would ...

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